Category Archives: Spotlight / Blog Tour
SPOTLIGHT – BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY (BITTERSWEET #4) BY J. L. BECK
Bittersweet Symphony (Bittersweet #4)
By J.L. Beck
**Half of all sales of this book for the month of October will go towards The National Breast Cancer Foundation. If you would like to donate please visit http://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/ for more details**
-This book is suitable only to readers 18++ due to sexual situations, language, and violence.-
I’m a good girl. I don’t go out and party and I most definitely don’t sleep with half the student body. That’s what makes me and Ryder Winchester an unlikely duo. We should never work out, but yet I’m pulled to him like a moth to a flame. I want him, and I know he wants me.
He has secrets that I know I could never understand, but so do I. We all have secrets, things we hide from others in fear of what they would think of us if they ever found out.
I’m a bastard. An asshole. Most days I couldn’t give a shit what someone has to say to me. That is until I meet Kennedy Chaps. She’s different, strong, well opinionated, and completely naive to the person I am… My body, mind, and soul pull to her like no other. I could have her, but I won’t. I won’t taint her. I won’t shut out her light.
We both have secrets so deep that allowing them to escape would be like losing a part of the person we are. But as friendship morphs into something much deeper I feel myself confessing my secrets; things that could very well be the end of us.
Sometimes it’s about finding the right person to tell your secrets to.
Sometimes it’s about the risk.
Sometimes two damaged souls can’t heal all wounds, sometimes love is not enough. Hearts get broken, people lose hope, and love dies.
We are Ryder Winchester and Kennedy Chaps and this is our story.
Worry eats at my insides. I’m scared. Terrified. Sam knows. He obviously knows and told Ryder. I know Ryder is playing it off as nothing, simply looking at me as a way to rid the pain. I want him just as bad as he wants me, but I am not sure I can follow through with everything that’s going on. I have to do something to find a way to stop Sam before he ruins our lives, even if it means sacrificing my own happiness.
I can feel the tears slipping from my eyes at the very idea of never seeing Ryder’s face again, of never being able to show him that life is worth more than what he has been given, of never making him believe that he isn’t anything like his father. He is amazing, kind, generous, loving, protective…I just hope that someday he will realize who he really is.
Wiping away the tears, I fix my hair and force myself to calm down.
Getting out of the car, I walk up the front steps to Ryder’s apartment complex. It has been a week since the incident with Sam and I haven’t heard from him. It is as if he fell off the radar. I try to gather my thoughts and emotions, but once at his door, I have to pull my heart out of my stomach. I am not sure what horrible incident will happen first: Will my heart beat out of control, sending me into cardiac arrest, or will I vomit all over his floor?
Raising my fist to knock on the door, I stop. A noise on the other side of the door startles me, freezing me into place. It sounds like things are being thrown throughout the house.
My heart rate picks up, and my body goes into overdrive as fear finds its way into my mind. I can’t bury it if I tried. Without hesitation, I grab the handle of the door. The coldness of the metal is the only thing I can sense.
Turning it, I open the door and my heart plummets to the floor. Danger registers in my mind, but I’m too worried about Ryder to pay it any attention. The apartment is trashed. It looks as if someone has gone through the place looking for something, but never finding it.
I hear the slamming of doors down the hall… “Ryder?” I call out. Feelings are lodged in my throat. I don’t think I can do this. Taking one look at the apartment, I can tell he is already spiraling out of control. He is losing himself.
“What?” he roars gruffly from down the hall. I can hear the pain laced in his voice. Anger vibrates off of him with every step he takes toward me. He looks nothing like the man I have fallen so helplessly for. Instead, the shell of that person stands before me. He is shirtless and sweaty. His face has a week’s worth of scruff, and his hair is all over the place.
“Are you okay?” I ask as innocently as I can. I have never been more afraid of Ryder than I am in this very moment. I can see the unstableness within him. Like a teeter-totter, he needs something, or someone, to balance him out, but he has to want it, first.
He picks up a nearby bottle of what I assume to be alcohol. He reeks of whiskey and another sweet smell.
“Do I look okay, Kennedy?” he sneers sarcastically. The words are like a slap to my face. What happened to him? I take a soft step backward, not wanting to trap myself within his grasp.
If I am being honest, I know he’s not okay. His eyes are blood shot while his face is a beautiful, ragged mess. He is so damaged, and it hurts my heart. I thought I was the only one suffering, but obviously I was wrong. How could I have been so blind to Ryder’s needs, to what he so desperately needed from me?
“Not really… You look… not…good,” I mumble through my words, not wanting to say the wrong things that may upset him even more. But then my feistiness sparks, and I start to gather my courage. “No one’s heard from you in like a week. You haven’t even called me.” I don’t want to sound needy, but I have missed him. I wanted to make sure he is okay, but I wanted to see him too. My eyes linger over the muscles of his chest, the muscles that make up that delectable V of his.
“Really?” He barks out before taking another chug from the bottle. I seriously need to find every bottle of alcohol in this place and pour it out.
“That’s weird because the only one who called me was you… and then you have my piece of shit father… but that doesn’t really matter now… does it?” I watch him, carefully listening to his slurring thoughts for any hidden meanings.
“It matters…”
“It doesn’t… and I’m not even sure why you’re still here, Kennedy.” He is fucking stupid if he doesn’t know why I am here. He is stupid to assume anything in the state he is in.
“You’re stupid if you don’t know why I’m still here,” I state, trying to hide my anger, knowing he will just get off on it. He is at the tipping point, and I don’t want to give him any more steam.
“I’m stupid…” He lets out a harsh, vile sounding laugh. “I’m the one, but you’re… you’re the innocent, precious, perfect beauty… standing in front of me… trying to pull me off the cliff.”
I look around the room. The couches are overturned, the dining room table broken, glass is all over the place, and everything else is strewn all around. I wonder how the cops haven’t been called yet.
“What happened?” I ask curiously, wanting to take the attention off of me.
“What didn’t happen?” he responds gruffly, pushing off the counter while slamming back another drink. I eye the bottle precariously; I need to get it away from him, but I don’t dare get close to him. I know the Ryder I care about wouldn’t hurt me, but this Ryder is someone darker, meaner, and more abrasive with less boundaries.
“You should probably put the bottle down.”
He eyes me, the darkness within him casting out any good. The light within him is diminishing with every drink.
“You should probably leave.” He takes a step toward me, and my breathing hesitates. Fear spikes down my spine, but I can’t look away from him. My feet are glued to the floor, and I know I won’t leave this place until I save him and bring him back to me. We both might be broken, but he is far more broken than I; if I have to, I will save the two of us, making us whole again.
I shake my head no, afraid that my voice will tremble, giving away just how much he affects me. Before I can even blink, he is directly in front of me, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck.
I am shaking like a leaf in the wind. I know he can feel it. He takes a drink from the bottle again, and the scent of whiskey invades my senses. He smells dark and dangerous, and even though I’m frightened by him, I’m intrigued as well.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks softly. His voice is that of the Ryder I have grown to know, but the look in his eyes tells me it’s merely a façade.
“No,” I declare, somehow finding my voice. I so badly want to take him into my arms and tell him it will be okay, but I know that isn’t what he needs.
“Are you sure?” he taunts me, his fingers seizing my neck harder. There’s no pain, just discomfort.
Then it dawns on me: he thinks he can hurt me and everyone else who cares about him, like he’s his father. He is wrapped up in his very own dark world, letting the thoughts assault him.
“I know you’re in there somewhere, Ryder. Find your way out, find your way back to me,” I beg, my hands landing in fists against his chest. He’s warm, and I’m so enveloped up in the feeling that I don’t realize we are moving until my back slams into the wall. His body pins mine, a feral look in his eyes as the bottle of whiskey hits the floor.
I can’t breathe, nor can I force myself to close my eyes. I can’t do anything to protect myself from him; I’m at his mercy.
“This is me, Kennedy. The person you thought you knew never existed. My father killed him a long time ago.” His hand skims over my chest, my heartbeat skyrocketing to a point where I’m afraid I will die.
Add to Goodreads
Buy on Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
Check out the other novellas in the Bittersweet serial:
Bittersweet Revenge (Bittersweet #1)
Add to Goodreads
Buy on Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
Bittersweet Love (Bittersweet #2)
Add to Goodreads
Buy on Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
Bittersweet Hate (Bittersweet #3)
Add to Goodreads
Buy on Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU
J.L. Beck is the author of Bittersweet Revenge(A Bittersweet Novella Book 1). A four part novella series. She lives in Elroy, WI with her husband Brandon, and daughter Bella. Since the moment she could reach the shelves on the book shelf shes been reading, thus influencing her to write. Her favorite books are those that leave an imprint on your soul. You know the ones that have you putting everything off because you have to find out what happens next.
When she’s not writing or reading(of course)you can find her picking up after her three year old daughter, or explaining to her husband why its unsafe to do something any other way, than the way your wife told you too.
Shes a huge fan of all things drama, with shows like The Vampire Diaries, and Arrow being some of her favorites. She’s addicted to all things social media, caffeine, and Starbucks.
Share this:
BLOG TOUR – SLOW BURN (LOST KINGS #1) BY AUTUMN JONES
Synopsis
President of the Lost Kings MC, Rochlan “Rock” North, hasn’t managed to find a woman capable of making him want to curb his wild ways—until he meets sweet, innocent, married lawyer Hope Kendall.
Forced to represent the outlaw biker, Hope is rattled by her immediate attraction to Rock. Hope is a good girl in a good marriage. Rock thrills her, but she’s not going to throw away everything she’s built on a fling with her criminal client.
Rock respects Hope enough to leave her alone, even as he realizes he’s become a little obsessed with her. When their connection endangers her life, he’ll have to destroy her in order to save her.
After tragedy strikes, Rock is determined to earn Hope’s forgiveness and convince her that even with their staggering differences, they’re meant to be together
Purchase Links
Excerpt
to. Already in my head, I’d laid claim to this woman whose first name I didn’t even know.
About the Author
In addition to writing, Autumn runs her own business from home. A big fan of horror movies and spooky books, it wasn’t until recently she realized all the tales she writes need to include a hunky hero and a happily ever after.
When she’s not writing, she spends time listening to music, going to concerts, reading, acting, and collecting nail polish. While those things are fun, Autumn is happiest sitting in front of her computer into the wee hours of the night, weaving stories the characters in her head whisper to her.
She lives in Upstate New York with her husband and their three rescue dogs. She is actively involved with several dog rescue groups and her local RWA chapter.
Giveaway
Share this:
BLOG TOUR ~ BENEATH THE SCARS by MELANIE MORELAND
Event Organized by
❤MaE Book Tours & Promo Stars Services❤
Synopsis
The sound of the ocean, the crash of the waves as they kick up against the sand and rocks—these are the only sounds Megan Greene wants to hear. She wants to leave the rest of the world behind, and find some peace. The offer of a private house on the beach, set in a small town in Maine, is perfect. Time to think—to be by herself. It’s all she wants. It’s the escape she needs. Until she stumbles across the painting that seems to echo her own chaotic mindset. Until she meets the unfriendly artist behind the stormy painting and discovers his secrets.
All Zachary Adams wants is to be left alone. His canvases, and the unending scope
of the ocean and sand, are his life. They direct him—fill his hours. Bring him focus. Until she enters his life. She dredges up memories of the past—the haunting images he has hidden for years; the fears he has never shared. A story he keeps buried below the surface.Can she make him see what he is missing? Can he trust her enough to believe?
Together they embark on a journey where their pasts collide and threaten to tear them apart. Will their fragile bond hold or wash away with the ebbing tide?
Genre Adult Contemporary Romance
Expected Publication Date October 14th 2014
Excerpt #1
As I descended the few stairs to the beach, I was surprised to see the large golden retriever as well as the mysterious Zachary. I stood for a minute, observing him in private. He was standing, barefoot in the surf, staring out over the water as his dog frolicked close by. Zachary was a tall, dark silhouette against the sand and stormy, strange-colored sky of the late afternoon. Wearing dark jeans and the same overcoat that showed off his broad shoulders, a beanie once again pulled low on his head, he stood with his hands in his pockets, motionless, as the water swept across his bare feet. The rolled-up edges of his pants were dark with the ocean spray clinging to the material. I shivered just watching him. The water had to be freezing.
Seeing her new friend, Dixie let out a happy, little yelp, which had the retriever bounding over to her, once again licking her head and huffing as he greeted her. The two of them took off, heading right toward Zachary. He leaned down, greeting Dixie, allowing her a sniff, then patted her head and straightened up. He didn’t turn around or acknowledge my presence. With a roll of my eyes, I walked forward, stopping when I was close enough to be heard, but not have my feet in the frigid water. I waited, but he said nothing, ignoring me completely.
Unfriendly indeed.
“That’s Dixie—my dog.”
His chin dipped with a brief nod. “Elliott.”
I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “You or the dog?”
His lips quirked at the edges. “My dog.”
“I’m staying at the Harpers’ house.”
He nodded.
“I’m not Karen—I’m a friend of hers.”
His sarcasm was thick. “I realize. I have met her—more than once. There is a slight resemblance, perhaps, but I can see you aren’t her. Your hair rather gives that away.”
“I’m sure it was a thrill for her,” I murmured, surprised to hear the trace of a British accent in his voice. I chose to ignore the remark about my hair.
Nothing.
“They’re letting me stay here for a while.”
“How kind.”
I shook my head. Was he for real?
“I’m Megan. Megan Greene.”
Silence.
I searched my brain for something to say. “Looks like a storm’s coming in.”
“Observant.”
I frowned at him—definitely rude. His voice, however, despite its unwelcoming tone, was low and rich sounding, his subtle accent curling around the words when he spoke. I wanted to hear more than a few monosyllables from him, and to hear him say my name.
“Aren’t your feet cold, Zachary?”
He glanced down and shrugged, still facing the water, not even acknowledging the fact I knew his name. “Not really. I’m used to the cold.”
I decided to try a different subject—maybe one that would open him up a little. “I saw your work at the gallery in town; you’re very gifted.”
Again, he nodded.
“Your Tempest painting is”—I searched for the right word—“exceptional.”
“It’s not for sale.”
Disappointed at his words, I studied his partially hidden profile. Again his jaw was covered in stubble, and all I could really see was his nose and the downturned set of his full mouth. Some wayward hair sticking out from his beanie was blowing in the wind; its color not easy to make out. I was sure it was dark, but I couldn’t see enough to determine if I was correct. I wanted to step forward, force him to look at me, but there was something about his tense stance that screamed “back off.” He was obviously uncomfortable with me being this close, so I remained where I was, even though I felt some bizarre sort of need to get closer. I had to struggle not to move beside him, slip my hand into his, and offer him some sort of comfort; to loosen the tense set of those broad shoulders. I shook my head at the strange urge.
“Would you perhaps reconsider?”
“No. Jonathon already inquired on your behalf. I have it on loan to the gallery as a personal favor. It’s not for sale—at any price.”
I smiled, attempting to tease him. “Everything has its price, Zachary.”
I wasn’t prepared for the venom in his voice when he spoke.
“I’m fucking aware that’s the way most of the world works. I don’t conduct my life that way.”
Then he turned and walked away, his long strides eating up the distance, his unbuttoned coat billowing out behind him. He whistled for Elliott, who dropped the stick from his mouth and chased after his master.
Both Dixie and I stood staring at the retreating figures. Not once did Zachary pause or look back, while Elliott raced ahead of him. I waited until he had climbed the stairs and disappeared from sight, never taking my eyes off him.
I blinked and looked over the water.
Now I could say I had met my neighbor.
That went well.
Excerpt #2
Megan stood gazing at me, her head shaking slowly back and forth, but she didn’t move. “You don’t mean that.”
Why wasn’t she listening to me? Why wasn’t she leaving?
“Get out of my house. Leave.” I pointed to the door, making sure she understood. “Now.”
“You wouldn’t send me out into a storm, Zachary. Your words are just empty threats to try and get me to hate you.” She came closer, her voice soothing and calm.
I barked out a harsh laugh as I stepped back. “You should hate me.”
“I don’t.” She edged forward again.
I frowned at her. Why was she coming closer? She should be backing away; even if she knew I wouldn’t throw her out of the house, she should want to move as far away from me—from my hideous face—as possible.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” She moved forward, closing any remaining distance between us to mere inches. I tried to step back, but I had nowhere to go, my back hitting the stone of the fireplace. I dragged in a shaking breath, only to have my already overloaded senses fill with her warm scent, shutting my eyes as it settled around me like a soothing blanket. When I opened them a moment later, it was to her wide, dark gaze. There was no revulsion or pity in their depths; only a simple calm, beseeching stare. She looked vulnerable as we gazed at each other, the room around us ceasing to exist.
Why was she looking at me like that? What did she want?
“Zachary,” she whispered.
It was too much. She was too close and too—
I lifted my hands to push her away, except when they wrapped around the top of her arms, it was as if they had a mind of their own. Time seemed to stop as my fingers caressed the smooth, silky skin not covered by her T-shirt; the warmth of her burning through my fingers to my very core. My arms flexed as they dragged her closer until our faces were almost touching. Her hands held tightly to my loose sweater, bunching the fabric in her small fists so hard, I knew the cuts on her palms would reopen. I knew her blood would seep into the material, forever staining it with her essence. It didn’t matter; I couldn’t let go of her. I held her so close it was as if I was trying to mold her into my skin and make her part of my body. Her hot breath washed over my face, and I could hear my own ragged, harsh breaths filling the room.
Still, neither of us said a word as we stared, clutching and holding each other, the heat between us burning brighter every second that passed. A small whimper escaped her lips, a pleading, needy sound and I was lost. My mouth covered hers roughly and I jerked her flush to me, not allowing a sliver of space between us. I groaned into her wet, warm mouth as I felt her hands slip into my hair, holding me close to her face. Her tongue was like silk on mine as we caressed and tasted, our tongues stroking and entwining. The taste of her was as sweet as I knew it would be, her lips as soft and her effect on me crippling. I plunged my hands into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, directing her where I needed her to go with my touch. Megan gripped me tighter as I claimed her; needing and wanting more. Her heart hammered powerfully in her chest, so I knew she could feel mine as well. Small sounds from deep in her throat filled my ears as I ravished her mouth, lost in the heat and wonder that was Megan.
Excerpt #3
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I snapped. I hated pity.
“I’m not feeling sorry for you. I said I was sorry people chose to be unkind because of your scars. There’s a difference,” she snapped right back. A dull flush tinged her cheeks, her eyes glinting and fiery with annoyance as she frowned at me. Despite her anger, I found her incredibly attractive and my lips quirked.
“What?” she spat at me.
I shook my head as I chuckled and grabbed the bottle of wine to top up our glasses. I might be low on food, but I never ran out of wine. “I was thinking how I wanted to capture you on film again, looking exactly like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a kitten trying to act like a tiger. All growls and swipes of your little paws as you hiss at me, putting me in my place.” I reclined back, taking a deep swallow of my wine as I gazed at her over the rim of the glass. “You’re very sexy when you’re angry. Did you know that?”
“Stop it.”
“It’s true. Your eyes flash, and the color on your cheeks is sublime. Your glare, which I’m certain you mean to be angry, is more of a turn on than anything.”
“I am angry at you. You twist everything I say.”
I tilted my head in acknowledgment. “I know. It’s a bad habit I picked up after years of being lied to.” Lifting her hand, I kissed the knuckles. “I apologize. I’ll try harder.” I placed another kiss on her skin. “But I still want to capture you when you’re angry.”
Rolling her eyes, she stood up, taking our empty plates. “Somehow, Zachary, I have a feeling you’ll get what you wish for without much effort.” She sighed as she walked to the sink. “You seem to be able to make me angry faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I closed the distance between us in two large steps. Cupping the back of her neck, I brought her mouth to mine. “Anger is simply another form of passion,” I murmured against her lips.
“A tiring one,” she returned in a whisper. “And I won’t ever lie to you.”
“Everyone lies.”
“No, they don’t. Whatever world you were in where they did, I’m glad you’re out of it.” She paused, frowning. “I’m glad you’re here—with me.”
I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to think about the past, or groceries, or even what was going to happen tomorrow. All I wanted was to lose myself with her again. To block out everything else.
I picked her up, striding down the hall with her cradled in my arms, my mouth covering hers.
She wanted me to be happy. Having her wrapped around me, buried inside her, made me happy.
Dreamcast
My Cast of Characters for Beneath the Scars…
Zachary Adams ~ Henry Cavill
His eyes are so expressive and he has that sense of ruggedness about him that reminds me of Zachary. There is something strong about his demeanor and when he smiles it is like the sun coming out. He was the perfect choice.
Megan Greene ~ Alexis Bledel
That pretty next door look, with a beautiful smile. Add a few freckles and brown contacts, she is exactly as I pictured Megan.
Jared Cameron ~ Ryan Gosling
Good looking and he knows it. He knows how to use it. I think he’d portray a great Jared with enough smarminess to give you the shivers.
Karen Harper ~ Anne Hathaway
Anne portrays that confident beauty Zach described. Sure of herself, outspoken and loyal. All traits I think she possesses.
Playlist
About the Author
Melanie Moreland lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her husband and four children. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them.
Known as the quiet one with the big laugh, Melanie works for the sporting teams of a local university. Her (box) office job, while demanding, is rewarding as she cheers on her team to victory.
While seriously addicted to coffee, and somewhat challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties and socialize, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie delights in writing a good romance story with some bumps along the way, but is a true believer in happily ever after. When her head isn’t buried in a book, it is bent over a keyboard, furiously typing away as her characters dictate their creative story lines to her even more inspired tales, for all to enjoy.
Connect with Melanie Moreland!
Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter
♦Follow the Tour♦
10.8
https://www.facebook.com/ReadersHeavenUK
http://thisredheadlovesbooks.blogspot.com/
http://kandesbookblog.blogspot.com
10.9
http://diversereader.blogspot.com/
http://romancingthepentoday.blogspot.com
http://totaleclipsereviews.blogspot.com
http://flirtynvicious.tumblr.com
10.10
http://notanotheromance.blogspot.com
http://www.kawehisbookblog.blogspot.com
10.11
https://www.facebook.com/TurnedOnByWords
http://2blondesbooksnbooze.com/
http://www.chaosmusings.tumblr.com
10.12
http://a4alphab4books.blogspot.ca/
http://westoleyourbookboyfriend.weebly.com/
http://www.mixdsignals.weebly.com
10.13
http://blissfulbookreviews.com
http://www.lovebitessilkties.co.uk/
http://darkestcravings.blogspot.com
http://www.nisabelleblanco.com
10.14
http://tometender.blogspot.com/
http://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com
http://wickedreadingsbytawania.blogspot.com
10.15
http://www.fandemoniumnetwork.com
http://wilovebooks.blogspot.com
http://scandalousbookblog.blogspot.be/
10.16
http://www.krisandvikbooktherapycafe.com
http://officialiheartbooks.blogspot.com/
http://www.pinkypollock.blogspot.com
10.17
http://shortandsassybookblurbs.blogspot.com/
http://dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com/
http://a-reader-lives-a-thousand-lives.blogspot.co.uk
10.18
https://tracymeighan13.wordpress.com/
http://www.multitaskingmommas.com/
10.19
http://booksdirectonline.blogspot.com.au/
http://www.dauntlessindies.blogspot.com
http://authorsandralove.blogspot.com/
http://padmeslibrary.blogspot.com/
10.20
http://reneeentress.blogspot.com
http://meangirlsluvbooks.blogspot.com/
http://indiesstealourheart.wordpress.com/
10.21
http://bemybookboyfriend.blogspot.ie/
http://www.starangelsreviews.com
http://cawilcoxson.wordpress.com/
http://amandahigelmire.blogspot.com
http://4bookwormsunited2014.wordpress.com/
http://fictionalrendezvousbookblog.blogspot.com/
Share this:
BLOG TOUR – LONG ODDS (A SHOWING HEARTS NOVEL) BY MELISSA ASLESON
This is a story of deception, lust, fear, loss, rebuilding and healing. Only being in her early twenties, Averyana Chambers has a very deluded view of the world. After four years away at college, it is time to return and face the dark secrets that lie within the walls of her childhood home. Her brain and heart are constantly at war, and Avery just wants to find a balance. Avery has never gambled, especially not with her heart. Things are never what they seem and uncovering the truth is always a little to late in Avery’s world. How much tragedy can she stand before she gets completely lost in despair?
White roses. I both hate and find them intriguing at the same time. The first white rose I ever received was when my grandfather died. I was seven years old playing with my dolls under a giant oak tree at the cemetery while the grave-side service commenced. A man with a large rough hand gives me a long-stemmed white rose. His deep voice instructed me to give it to my mother for him. I looked up only to see the outline of a large dark-haired man, his back to the sun. I stood up to question him, curious why he didn’t do it himself when he quickly backed away. I stood there watching him disappear into the packed parking lot. After the service, my mother found me. I had resumed playing with my dolls. When I handed her the rose and told her about the man, she quickly ran to the parking lot. She was frantically looking for the man that I could only describe to her as a big with scarred hands and black hair. When she returned she was shaking me, demanding answers of whom and where the man went. My distressed father stepped in when I had no more information to offer and relieved me of my mom’s irrational behavior. After my grandfather had died, she was never quite the same.
The second time I received a single white rose was a similar experience, but this time the man didn’t speak. I was an eighteen year old saying my last respects to my parents at the same cemetery. The man was standing back watching me with a single long-stemmed white rose. I could feel his eyes on me the whole service. He was in a dark suit and sunglasses. I remember that he had a very distinct nose. It had been broken several times, and he had a raised scar that was above his right eye. He had handed the rose to me with a sad smirk before my aunt ushered me towards the limo. I have often wondered over the years if it was the same man. They didn’t seem to have anything in common in my memory of when I was seven, except for a single white rose. Since then, I’ve received white roses on my birthday every year for the last four years.
Today, however, is not my birthday. I look at the arrangement of two dozen long stem roses in a heavy crystal vase. The smell alone evokes so many emotions. The distinct, sweet smell reminds me of very happy memories of my grandparents’ home. They had a vast variety of roses. My grandmother loved them. On the other hand, it reminds me of death, sorrow and the people I miss desperately, especially right now. I just stare at the tiny white envelope with my name inscribed in the middle. This is the first time I have gotten an envelope of any kind. I am almost afraid to see what may lie inside.
Hello, I’m Melissa I love books and I am a very amateur writer. I started writing because both my parents were diagnosed with cancer within months of each other. I had moved back home to take care of my mother the sicker of the two and I found it hard to read, the emotions were deeper than I want to go at the time. So I stopped reading for a while. My cousin suggested that I write a letter to cancer to let out my frustrations, it turned into something else completely, I was able to escape and write my own story. Thus far I have a two part series published. My first two books are funny and light-hearted. The current work in progress is darker and deeper than I have gone.
Interesting facts about me; I am fluent in profanity and proud of it. I drink way too much wine. I have more shoes than storage room for them. More makeup and crazy jewelry than I should have, but I love it all. I will never turn down a shopping trip of any kind. My family and friends are the most important people in my life. I love horses and just about anything purple. I have a usual fondness for the smell of Pine-Sol. I believe music heals. I shamelessly love to dance and sing along wherever or whenever the music provokes me to do so. The next aspiration for me is to be featured in Inked magazine (I have a tattoo addiction as well).
I love to engage people and I will talk to anyone, anytime. I pride myself being open-minded, I occasionally ask blunt and inappropriate questions because I am so eager to learn about things I am not familiar with. I am fascinated by the human condition. All of my inspirations come from my real life experiences, people I have met, and music. I often wonder what kind of grief caused a sad song to be written, what events caused an angry song to be written and the circumstances of a love song.
I grew up in an extremely small and judgmental town. Everybody knew your business, sometimes before you even did. From a young age my parents instilled in me that it was better to be disliked for who you really are, than admired for who you are not. That is a virtue I live by today, I don’t pretend to be something or someone I am not for anyone-anytime. The people I surround myself with are the people who really understand me, they walk in with me, when everyone else walks out. They may be a group of few, but less is definitely more in this case. They are all precious to me.
Lastly, but no less important, I hope to engage my readers to laugh, possibly cry and become a little aroused. I know that I was lead down this path for a reason, so I will graciously follow it to wherever it leads me. I plan on letting me fingers fly across the keys as long as the opportunity allows. I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoyed writing and sharing them. Thank you to every reader that has or will ever take a chance on me.
Image by Cool Text: Free Graphics Generator – Edit Image
Share this:
SPOTLIGHT TOUR – THAT`S A PROMISE BY VICTORIA KLAHR
Pain isn’t new to me.I’ve been to hell only to find it never really leaves when you get back. It haunts me through nightmares, unrequited love, lies, broken hearts, and now death.
A monster almost took my life.
My best friend carries half my soul a world away.
My boyfriend broke my heart but refuses to let me go.
And my father is dead.
I don’t believe in fate and I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters, but for some reason, I still hope.
Live, even with a tainted spirit.
Long for my other half to come back to me.
Risk another broken heart, just to feel loved again.
And refuse to let another horror break me.
In the face of my most recent tragedy, I have to decide whether forgiveness is something I can give. But even if that’s an option, can I be forgiven?
I’m in a sea of black. The beautiful May day gives no impression that there is any sadness or grief in the air. It’s one of those days that you want to spend outside, smelling the new blooming flowers, getting some sun, and walking in the grass barefoot, but none of those things hold any interest for me.
Everything is a blur around me, a haze that mirrors my own depression. I know people are talking to me, but I don’t hear them. They express sadness in their words, but most of them never sympathized with us before today. They talk as if they know us, but where were they before? They live their lives talking shit behind people’s backs, but don’t see the hypocrisy in their fake condolences.
I’ve learned to ignore the whispers and stares, a lesson received repeatedly as I grew up in what some would call an “unconventional” household. Apparently punching everyone who bullies you isn’t the socially acceptable way to handle things, so I try to just ignore them. I don’t want or need to let any of their negativity in, so I remain quiet. There’s been enough sadness in our lives, and there’s no need for nasty words from nosey neighbors to pile onto that pain.
A person in a black suit finishes shoveling dirt into the cold, deep grave. I focus on the earth closing around the person I loved so immensely and to whom I felt so close. The ground consumes the casket and takes my loved one away into a lonely pit; permanently putting an end to the best person I will ever know.
I look at my dad sitting next to me. He is distraught, but well medicated for the occasion, only showing emotion when he remembers he just lost the love of his life. He seems to have aged ten years in the past week. He was once the strongest and most commanding person I knew, but today, he looks like a child. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything except for the essentials. He exists, but he’s not living. He looks up at me and I feel like maybe he wants to reach out and say something to comfort me, but I know his internal pain limits him from showing affection. I put my hand on his shoulder to show I’m here, hoping he understands what I mean.
People are finally leaving. Leaving us behind to grieve together in peace. That’s a lie. There is no peace for us, and there won’t be for a long time. With the preparations for the funeral complete, I have all the time in the world to sit and think about the gravity of what I just lost. That’s not peace. That’s torture.
“Dad,” I say, “I think that maybe we should head back to the house.” He sits there, giving no indication that he heard me suggest our departure.
“Dad,” I try again, after a minute. “Let’s say goodbye, and go home.” I can’t stand to be here any longer.
He stands slowly and walks over to the heap of dirt covering a life that was once vibrant and lively. He collapses onto the mound, and at first I’m startled by the sudden fall. Once I hear the heart wrenching sobs that escape his mouth, I understand he is saying his goodbye. I hear him murmuring about his undying love, and decide to give him some privacy.
I look toward the entrance of the cemetery, shaking myself out of the haze that I was in. I don’t even recall walking this far to get to the grave site, but I don’t want to remember, so I don’t try to conjure up the memory.
A figure leans against one of the nearby trees and I start to sweep my eyes past until recognition hits me in the chest heavily. I don’t think he wanted to be seen, but he was caught and he knows it. My throat starts to constrict and pain obstructs my chest.
He hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw him, except that he has no smile on his face today. He’s still breathtakingly handsome… but he’s also still the asshole I left behind at the café a year ago.
Why is he here? How dare he show his face here on a day like today?
I’m in such a state of shock that I lose concept of space and time. I stare at him for a good two minutes before I jerk back to reality.
He gives me a small wave and a slight lift of his beautiful lips. It is a sad and withdrawn smile, enough for me to know he understands exactly what happened.
I glare back at him, not in any mood to be civil, and start stomping my way toward him, intent on giving him a piece of my mind. He has no right to be here.
As I draw closer to him, he pulls himself from the tree and approaches. We meet up and stand so close I almost forget the reason why I came up to him. In my mind’s stuttering state, he speaks first.
“Hi Josie.” His deep, dominant voice washes over me, and I’m angry that it thrills me to hear his voice again. I swallow down the warmth, and try to keep my guard intact.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss. “I’m pretty sure I made it clear I never wanted to see you again. How dare you show your face here?”
“Jo… I just wanted to come and say how sorry I am about your loss. I heard about Will, and I needed to come see how you were doing,” he responds, sadness clear from the roughness of his voice.
Hearing him use my nickname with his gentle tone makes me weak. I wrap my arms around my body to try and keep my anger from being impacted by his kindness.
“I don’t want you here,” I whisper, looking anywhere but at him. I don’t want him to see me break down ever again, but between my loss and seeing him, I don’t know if I will be able to hold back. In that one sentence, filled with the longing and sadness that I didn’t want to show, I made it clear to him that I’m still hurting over what happened.
“I understand. I needed to make sure you’re okay. I know how hard this is for you.” He slowly starts to reach out his hand, and while my cheek tingles at the thought of him touching even an inch of my skin, I think he knows that it’s unwelcome. As I turn the slightest fraction away, he lets his hand fall back to his side, a look of regret crossing his face.
“I can’t do this. Dad needs me right now. I have to take him back to the house,” I say, wanting to get rid of him and the memories he is bringing back.
“Let me stay with you for the day. We can catch up and I can help you with things. Today is tough as it is, let me help,” he says, confidence and determination starting to come back into his personality. This is the man I knew.
I hear footsteps behind me as my dad walks up to us. He stands there, lost in a world I don’t want to enter. He said his goodbye and now he’s retreated back into his shell. I look up at my unexpected visitor and get ready to tell him goodbye for the last time.
“Mr. Sommers, I am so sorry for your loss,” he says softly to my dad. “Josie and I were talking about heading back to the house to catch up and throw away some of the food your neighbors sent over.” He gives me a sly smile and then returns his attention to my dad. “Would one extra person be okay?”
My dad grunts and gives a barely noticeable nod, and we both know him well enough to know that he has accepted the offer. I shake my head at his response.
“Dad, go ahead to the car. I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” I say, hoping to convince Blake Porter to leave. When Dad is almost at the car, I whip myself around to scowl at the same stubborn Blake I used to know. He has a small cocky smirk playing on his lips, and I don’t like how distractingly handsome he still is.
“You need to leave and never come back around here or me again. I can barely even look at you without wanting to punch you in your stupid face!”
The last part is only partially true; a part of me wants to hit him again, and the other part wants to kiss him. His smile grows a little after he hears me say that, because he knows me well enough to figure out that I really do want to hit him.
“I get that you never wanted to see me again after the last time, Josie. Just let me be here for you today. Let me be your friend this one time. I can help. You know I can help,” he says sincerely. I know he can help, but that scares me.
I take a deep breath and try to sort out my thoughts. He is the last person I need to be talking to, and the second person I’ve wanted to talk to since this happened. I know exactly who is standing before me, and I know without a doubt that if I let him back in, I will be hurt and betrayed all over again.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1qteiTC
Social Media Links:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7304003.Victoria_Klahrhttp://victoriaklahrwrites.blogspot.com/
Share this:
BLOG TOUR ~ HER DOM’S LESSON by A.D. JUSTICE
Title: Her Dom’s Lesson
Author: A.D. Justice
Release Date: October 6, 2014
Genre: Erotic Thriller
Synopsis
Sophia Vasco
Will he ever forgive me? This question haunts me every day and night. He branded me with his touch to the point that no other man will ever compare.
Dominic consumed my life. Until the day he learned the truth about me and everything changed. Nothing is as it seems and it has all spiraled out of control. The weight of the world now rests on my shoulders.
I have to fix this.
Dominic Powers
Some say that Karma is a bitch. I can say from experience that a betrayed Dom is much worse than a bastard ever thought about being.
They think they played me. I denied the man inside me his rightful place and was mistaken for a fool. When I’m done with them, they will feel the lash of her Dom’s lesson.
This isn’t over.
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK
Amazon CA ~ Amazon AU
B&N ~ Smashwords
About the Author
A.D. Justice has been married for 25 years and has two wonderful sons in college. She is also an avid reader of romance novels and, to her amazement, a self-published author. A.D. enjoys reading many different types of romance books – including drama and suspense, crime and mystery, NA and YA, and contemporary and erotica.
20 Fun Facts about A.D.
1. I haven’t met some of the best friends I have in person yet – but I plan on remedying that soon!
2. I love animals – we have two spoiled dogs, a cat, and two horses.
3. I’ve been married 25 years this year.
4. I have two sons – 21 and 19 – both in college.
5. I am a certified open water scuba diver.
6. I think I have an addiction to swag – I keep looking at and buying more of it!
7. I eat the chocolate off of Reese’s before I eat the peanut butter.
8. If I developed an allergy to peanuts, I would have to live on epi pens because I can’t give up peanut butter.
9. I don’t like having a schedule. Deadlines and scheduled meetings are my arch nemesis.
10. I am a huge Star Wars, Star Trek and superheroes movies fan.
11. I don’t care much about what others think….except when it comes to my work.
12. I haven’t developed thick enough skin yet.
13. Writing isn’t my full time job, even though I would love for it to be one day.
14. I don’t want to be put in a genre box. I want to write in several different categories.
15. I’m pretty out spoken. Unfairness or bullying really pisses me off. Picking on my friends will evoke my wrath upon your head. It’s not pretty.
16. Most of the people who know me in real life don’t know I’m writing books.
17. I will be at several book signings this year and I love to talk to people – so stop by my table even if it’s only for the freebies!
18. I have an MBA in Health Care Administration and a BS in Organizational Development.
19. I am 4 classes shy of having a second Master’s of Science degree but I can’t bring myself to go back to school.
20. I took my horse, Rio, away from my husband because he’s dead broke and the mare he bought me is green broke. I’m not riding a green broke mare. Sorry.
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Website ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Goodreads
Purchase Book One Today
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon CA ~ Amazon AU ~ B&N ~ Smashwords
Giveaway
Signed Paperback of Her Dom’s Lesson (US ONLY) or $10 Amazon Gift Card if located internationally,
Swag Pack (US ONLY), Ebook of Choice from AD Justice
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Share this:
BLOG TOUR ~ DELICATE INK (Montgomery Ink #1) by CARRIE ANN RYAN
CARRIE ANN RYAN BLOG TOUR FOR:
Delicate Ink
A Montgomery Ink Novel, Book 1
BLURB:
On the wrong side of thirty, Austin Montgomery is ready to settle down. Unfortunately, his inked sleeves and scruffy beard isn’t the suave business appearance some women crave. Only finding a woman who can deal with his job, as a tattoo artist and owner of Montgomery Ink, his seven meddling siblings, and his own gruff attitude won’t be easy.
Finding a man is the last thing on Sierra Elder’s mind. A recent transplant to Denver, her focus is on opening her own boutique. Wanting to cover up scars that run deeper than her flesh, she finds in Austin a man that truly gets to her—in more ways than one.
Although wary, they embark on a slow, tempestuous burn of a relationship. When blasts from both their pasts intrude on their present, however, it will take more than a promise of what could be to keep them together.
CARRIE ANN WEBSITE – Delicate Ink
Delicate Ink on GOODREADS
EXCERPT:
That first person had wanted a dragon on his back. Sure, Austin could have done it, but the kid had wanted to start right then. A full dragon piece would take at least three or four sessions of three hours each. Probably more considering the kid kept shifting from foot to foot as if he couldn’t sit still. Moving during a tattoo meant Austin had to stop and start numerous times or bash the kid’s head in.
Not that he’d ever do that, but he’d thought about it.
So the kid had yelled and bitched about time and demanding it right then for a hundred bucks. Yeah, totally not happening. The next one that came in was some really skinny chick who wanted the undersides of her obviously man-made breasts inked up with Playboy bunnies.
Austin wasn’t even going to touch that one.
Well, to be sure he wouldn’t have to deal with her, he showed her what he’d be working with. The woman freaked out when she saw the needles and left. Considering all the needles that must have touched her skin when she’d had the surgeries to make her body the way it was, her phobia made no sense.
Besides, what did she think they used, Paint By Numbers?
It had continued on like that with idiot after idiot until Austin said enough and locked himself in the back. He would just sketch until lunch and then deal with his scheduled clients.
BUY LINKS:
AUTHOR BIO:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan never thought she’d be a writer. Not really. No, she loved math and science and even went on to graduate school in chemistry. Yes, she read as a kid and devoured teen fiction and Harry Potter, but it wasn’t until someone handed her a romance book in her late teens that she realized that there was something out there just for her. When another author suggested she use the voices in her head for good and not evil, The Redwood Pack and all her other stories were born.
Carrie Ann is a bestselling author of over twenty novels and novellas and has so much more on her mind (and on her spreadsheets *grins*) that she isn’t planning on giving up her dream anytime soon.
Get in touch with Carrie Ann Ryan!
Website:
Blog:
Facebook, Author Page:
Facebook, Friend:
Twitter:
Goodreads:
Pinterest:
Newsletter:
Email:
BLP REVIEW ~ TRACY
TOUR WIDE GIVEAWAY:
This giveaway will be a Carrie Ann Ryan signed paperback and a $15 Amazon gift card
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Share this:
RELEASE BLITZ ~ Something Like Redemption by Monica James
Synopsis
Some secrets are best left untold…Mia Lee escaped to the sleepy little town of South Boston, Virginia with the intent to be normal, and to find a place she could call home.Sadly for Mia, her past has come back with a vengeance, and forced her to flee yet again.
This time, however, she’s not alone…Mia and Quinn are on the run, fleeing for their lives, while attempting to prove their innocence for a crime they did not commit.
But with a tainted past like Mia’s, it was inevitable that one day, it was going to catch up to her in a way she never fathomed.One ill-fated decision leads to an explosion of unimaginable events, and now Mia and Quinn are not only running for their lives, but also, for their redemption.
Buy Links
Author Bio
from every day life. She is an Amazon best selling author in the US, UK, Canada and Australia.
Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals.
She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends.
GIVEAWAY
Other books by Monica James
I SURRENDER SURRENDER TO ME SURRENDERED
Amazon US Amazon US Amazon US
Amazon UK Amazon UK Amazon UK
Amazon CA Amazon CA Amazon CA
Amazon AU Amazon AU Amazon AU
B&N B&N B&N
Kobo Kobo Kobo
Smashwords Smashwords Smashwords
Share this:
Blog Tour ~ The Satyr’s Curse II, The Reckoning by Alexandrea Weis
Excerpt:
Jazzmyn darted through the tall cypress door and headed toward her daughter’s bedroom. She hurried down the burgundy carpet, sick with the realization that Kyle had known all along about their daughter. Jazzmyn had only gotten a short glimpse of Jackie after the delivery, but the instant she had set eyes on the small bundle of dark curly hair presented to her by the nurse, she knew Kyle was not the father.
As she followed the loud crying down the hall, the disapproving gazes of long dead Livaudais relatives glared back at her from the portraits on the walls. It was as if she had let the family down and brought an unwanted element into their exclusive bloodline.
When she pushed the cypress door open to her daughter’s room, she peeked in and found a small figure standing in her bright pink crib with tears streaming down her cherubic cheeks. Jazzmyn quickly strode across the white Oriental rug to her daughter’s crib. After picking up the wailing child, Jazzmyn began humming to her, knowing that music always soothed her sad moods, just like her father. Kyle’s words came back to her, and she fought back a surge of tears. When Jackie began to settle down, Jazzmyn noticed something shiny clasped in her tiny hand. She reached for the object and gently pried it from Jackie’s strong grip. Jazzmyn’s heart fell to the floor when she saw the gold figurine of a satyr at the end of a gold chain in her hand.
“Where did you get this, Jacks?” Jazzmyn interrogated, knowing full well her daughter could not answer.
She gaped at the gold figurine in her hand and reflected back to the moment Julian had given it to her, and also to the night he had taken it away. Jazzmyn hugged her child, holding on as tightly as she could. With her heart galloping in her chest, Jazzmyn settled her daughter back down in her crib and gave her the white stuffed goat to placate her.
Grasping the figurine necklace, she bolted through the bedroom door and made her way down the wide oak staircase to the first floor. After punching the alarm code into the panel on the side of the front doors, she pulled the heavy leaded glass doors open and stepped into the warm summer night. She stood on the porch of her home and peered out into the quiet street beyond. Despite the early morning hour, the city of New Orleans hummed with activity. In the distance, she could hear the rumble of the trolley on nearby St. Charles Avenue, and the faint bustle of traffic on the adjacent streets.
“I know you’re out there, you son of a bitch,” Jazzmyn growled into the night. “Stay away from my daughter, Julian. You can’t have her. You can never have her.”
Jazzmyn thought she heard someone snickering from behind the thick oak trees that stood before her home. But then the wind picked up and rustled the branches on the trees, sounding almost the same as laughter.
She turned back to her front doors and stepped inside. As Jazzmyn slowly shut the doors, her eyes stay peeled on the red-bricked walkway that led from her house to the street. She imagined Julian’s tall figure striding down that walkway as she had seen him do several times in the past. After closing the doors, she drove the deadbolt home and rested her forehead against the cool glass.He was back. Jazzmyn could sense his presence and shuddered at the idea of seeing him again. When she turned from the doors, her eyes traveled up the wide oak staircase, with its twisting grapevine carved banister, to the second floor landing. She thought of Kyle and what to tell him, but she knew in the end she would say nothing. Ever since that night in Lafayette Cemetery Number One, when Julian’s plans to lift his curse had been crushed, she had been waiting for this moment.
It seemed the day Jazzmyn had been dreading had finally arrived.
Julian Devereau was back for his moment of reckoning.
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Her first novel, To My Senses, introduced readers to the world of Nicci Beauvoir and garnered numerous awards and rave reviews. Her popular second Nicci Beauvoir novel, Recovery, won the Gold Medal for best romantic suspense from The Reader’s Favorite Book Awards 2011, and was named best Romantic Suspense novel by the Spring 2011 NABE Pinnacle Book Awards. Her fourth novel, Broken Wings, won best Contemporary Romance by the NABE Pinnacle Book Awards in 2012, was a Silver Medal winner in the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards for Romance, as well as a finalist in the Reader’s Favorite Book Awards for Contemporary Romance for 2012. Her last novel, Acadian Waltz received honorable mention at the Readers’ Favorite Book Awards for Best Contemporary Romance and was a Best Southern Fiction Finalist. A permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans. Share this:
RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ DELICATE INK (Montgomery Ink #1) by Carrie Ann Ryan
BLURB:
On the wrong side of thirty, Austin Montgomery is ready to settle down. Unfortunately, his inked sleeves and scruffy beard isn’t the suave business appearance some women crave. Only finding a woman who can deal with his job, as a tattoo artist and owner of Montgomery Ink, his seven meddling siblings, and his own gruff attitude won’t be easy.
Finding a man is the last thing on Sierra Elder’s mind. A recent transplant to Denver, her focus is on opening her own boutique. Wanting to cover up scars that run deeper than her flesh, she finds in Austin a man that truly gets to her—in more ways than one.
Although wary, they embark on a slow, tempestuous burn of a relationship. When blasts from both their pasts intrude on their present, however, it will take more than a promise of what could be to keep them together.
http://carrieannryan.com/delicate-ink/
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18584406-delicate-ink
BUY LINKS:
Amazon http://amzn.to/1AEhALt
B&N http://bit.ly/YXLRar
ARe http://bit.ly/1rWDFUi
Kobo http://bit.ly/VxOcGK
iBooks http://bit.ly/1oV8NMl
AUTHOR BIO
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carrie Ann Ryan never thought she’d be a writer. Not really. No, she loved math and science and even went on to graduate school in chemistry. Yes, she read as a kid and devoured teen fiction and Harry Potter, but it wasn’t until someone handed her a romance book in her late teens that she realized that there was something out there just for her. When another author suggested she use the voices in her head for good and not evil, The Redwood Pack and all her other stories were born.
Carrie Ann is a bestselling author of over twenty novels and novellas and has so much more on her mind (and on her spreadsheets *grins*) that she isn’t planning on giving up her dream anytime soon.
Get in touch with Carrie Ann Ryan!
Website: http://carrieannryan.com/
Blog: http://carrieannryan.com/blog/
Facebook, Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/CarrieAnnRyanAuthor
Facebook, Friend: https://www.facebook.com/carrieannryanwrites
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CarrieAnnRyan
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5360266.Carrie_Ann_Ryan
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/carrieannryan/
Newsletter: http://carrieannryan.us4.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=4fd27cc0d4abd9691ecaa236e&id=de39f7f897
Email: http://carrieannryan.com/contact-me/
TOURWIDE GIVEAWAY:
This giveaway will be a Carrie Ann Ryan signed paperback and a $15 Amazon gift card
Book Loving Pixies 